


baby, you're a haunted house

by monstermash



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Supernatural Elements, bi luke crain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 17:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21103598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: One, two, three, four.It's red. Almost identical, almost the sameexactshade.Five, six, seven.Just looking at it had nearly sent him into a panic; strychnine tea parties and moldering, water stained white walls that had a similar stench to roadkill baking in the sun.





	baby, you're a haunted house

**Author's Note:**

> listen, i just want Luke to be happy (dude lost his twin and the red room ruined his 92 days of being clean). we know from the epilogue of Hill House that he does reach the two year mark, but i wanted to see how he gets there. not to mention how he learns to deal with 26 year old trauma in a healthier way.
> 
> most of the supernatural elements will be in reference to the events at Hill House, but Luke is still a Crain and the Crains have been shown to be sensitive outside of Hill House. mostly the sisters, but still.
> 
> (also i'm very sorry if anyone seems OOC, this is my first time writing most of these characters so i'm still finding my voice with them.)

It's almost anticlimactic to be here after everything that has happened.

After they finally understood about the house, about what it has always been.

Luke still dreams of it sometimes. Of days gone by and it feels like maybe it happened a lifetime ago, to someone else. Blurred at the edges and distant, slipping through his fingers like sand. It doesn't feel _real._

The only time it does is when he can't sleep and watches the sun slowly rise from where he sits on Shirley's porch.

Used to sit.

Because he isn't there anymore. He's _here_ trying to get clean again, with little to no prompting from his siblings required this time. Luke is standing at the check-in desk of his own volition, by his own choice.

So yeah, this all feels a little anticlimactic considering the messed up, traumatic bullshit he and his siblings went through over the course of a few days and a lifetime.

And here he stands, feeling jittery from nerves, heart practically trying to crawl up and out of his throat. Swallowing thickly in an attempt to get rid of that sensation, Luke grips the strap of his backpack tight enough to turn his knuckles bone white.

"Luke Crain," he rasps softly, throat still feeling rough and scratchy from the last time he cried his eyes out over Nellie and dad, which had just been barely an hour ago.

(He cried over mom, and over Abigail, too. But that grief is old, older, old enough that he can smell the rot of it if he's not careful.)

The older woman behind the desk - Linda on her name tag - nods at him before typing away at her keyboard, and Luke focuses on his heartbeat, on evening out his breathing.

There had been a moment - a very, _very_ long moment - where he almost turned around, almost didn't make it through the front door.

_One, two, three, four._

It's red. Almost identical, almost the same _exact_ shade.

_Five, six, seven._

Just looking at it had nearly sent him into a panic; strychnine tea parties and moldering, water stained white walls that had a similar stench to roadkill baking in the sun.

_("We're home, my love.")_

But he did it, despite the deep chill that had rattled down his spine.

_("You have to live.")_

"Alright, you're all checked in, Mr. Crain," Linda smiles up at him, polite but still friendly. He manages to return it, if a bit awkwardly. "If you'll follow me, we'll get you settled in."

Luke follows and doesn't look back at the door.

\---

The Howell Rehabilitation Center is located so far on the edge of Boston that Luke isn't completely sure if it counts as being inside the city limits or not.

In all honesty, he could've gone back to California, gotten back into the rehab program he'd been in before chasing after Joey, before finding out Nellie died. Just... _before._

But not now. 

Nellie isn't there anymore, and he's not sure he can handle finding out whatever has happened to Joey right now, if ever. Hell, he can't even _think_ about California without dredging up memories of how things could've been, or phantom needle pinpricks and runny-egg eyes. Sure, Steve will be there, and things between them - _all_ of them - have been getting better, slowly but surely, and yet... Luke can't make himself go. Besides, Steve needs to focus on talking things out properly with Leigh, just like Shirley needs to do the same with Kevin. Unsurprisingly, out of all of them, Theo is the one who has her shit the most together. Always has. It's something he's always admired about his sister and he wants to have that, the know-how to keep his shit together instead of what he's done for years and years.

And that means staying in Boston and facing his issues. To get further than ninety-two days. Though, to be fair, it had been the house, the red room, that ended his ninety-two days of being clean. Doesn't make it any less frustrating, but he knows that he can make it.

Theo helped him get everything in order for this while he had still been in the hospital.

"It's a good place," Theo had said while she sat with him, her feet kicked up onto his bed. They'd been watching muted soap operas, coming up with more and more ridiculous lines for the characters like they used to as kids. Back when their family moved around, when the hotel rooms between the different houses felt more familiar than anything else. "I know it might feel a little too soon to be thinking about getting back into rehab after everything, but—"

_But she's already lost her little sister, she doesn't want to lose her little brother too._

"No. No, it's fine," Luke assured her. "I probably should get back into... I _want_ to. I will."

She'd gone over it with him; the place wasn't big, but it wasn't so small that it was expensive like the first rehab center he'd gone to. At the very least he'd only have to share a room with one other person instead of five. The guilt about dropping out of that first program, how much _money_ Shirley had spent on it for him, has never really gone away. Too much pressure he thinks, whereas Howell Rehab is more manageable. It is a good place, like Theo had said, when he read a bit more about it after finally getting his phone back.

Luke's stay at the hospital wasn't very long; a few days at most and then he stayed in Shirley's guestroom while he waited for the paperwork to go through. Seeing Steve off at the airport was hard, especially since they were all still working on closing up the rifts that had popped up between them over the years.

"You can still come with me back to L.A." Steve had said when they hugged goodbye. "I know I haven't... I know I haven't been there for you like I should have, but you don't have to stay here in Boston if you don't want to."

_You don't have to be near the house if you don't want to. You can leave if you want._

"I know." Luke told him. _I know you don't hate me, I know this has been just as rough on you guys over the years as it has been on me, I know._ "But I want to. I think Boston will be good for me."

Then Steve said goodbye to Theo, and to Shirl, although the goodbye between his two oldest siblings had been a little more stilted, but they were trying, and that's the important part.

_Luke?_

After that he'd spent most of his time helping Theo and Trish paint Theo's new place, trying to give Shirley and Kevin as much space as he possibly could to work through... whatever it is they're working through. Luke isn't a hundred percent sure what's going on with them, since he'd been pretty out of it over grief of Nellie's death but aware that everyone was at each other's throats before, during, and after her funeral, and then the red room had happened to them and Luke hadn't really come to until he was in a hospital bed.

The call had come on Tuesday, letting him know that he'd been accepted into the Howell Rehab Center and that they were expecting him by Thursday. He's had his bag packed with his meager belongings since the call had ended. He's gonna get through this, he's gonna make sure it _sticks_ this time; Luke knows that relapses happen - god does he know that first hand - but he's made it ninety-two days before and he owes it to his family and to himself to get there.

"Luke?"

Luke blinks, wandering thoughts receding until he's back in the here and now, where Chuck - the counselor Linda had handed him off to - waits patiently for an answer.

"Sorry," he apologizes, one hand coming up to scratch idly at the back of his neck. "What were you saying?"

"Is this your first time in rehab?" Chuck asks, repeating themself patiently.

"No. This is my sixth time."

There's nothing but relief when he doesn't see any trace of judgement on Chuck's face when he admits that. Luke still gets a twinge of shame whenever he thinks about how many times he's done this now, even though he knows he shouldn't. It's not as bad as it used to be, but it's still there.

Chuck just nods, gesturing for Luke to follow them out of their office.

"Most of the rules here will probably be pretty familiar to you." Chuck leads him to what looks like a large rec room. "No cell phones or computers, with the exception of Family Days for those whose families are out of state. Attendance to all sessions, both one-on-one and group is required. Group happens here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from two to four."

From there a lot of the rules are the same as other rehabs he's been to, although Howell Rehab seems to be a bit more relaxed about the no movies, TV, or music rule; it's still pretty limited to what is allowed, but there is more choice to it. The tour of the place comes to an end in the dorms.

"This is where you'll be staying," Chuck tells him, standing off to the side so Luke can step inside. The room is pretty bare with pale green walls, a bunk bed against the far wall, a dresser that's big enough to be divided between two people, and a desk by the door. "Your roommate is in session right now, but you'll meet him and the others later in group."

Looking back at Chuck, Luke offers up a faint smile that he doesn't quite feel with a quiet _"thanks."_

And then he's left alone in the room he'll be sharing.

\---

There really hadn't been a lot to look at in his room, other than a few things his roommate had left out - a couple books that aren't self help, a notepad with a few sentences scratched out that he doesn't linger on.

Luke manages to kill half an hour putting his clothes away and then staring at the ceiling from his bunk before a sense of restlessness takes hold.

Walking the halls seems like a good idea as any. Anything to keep him moving, away from a too loud silence and memories of red doors. It's easy to lose himself in walking aimlessly, reminds him of the years he and his siblings spent living with Aunt Janet; whenever the memories bubbled a little too close to the surface Luke would just pick a direction and start walking, the destination unimportant. Sometimes Nell or Theo would join him, but more often than not it was just him, the only time alone he ever really claimed for himself during his childhood after Hill House. Well, until his first brush with heroin a few months before graduating, before going off to college only to drop out so just so he could not _feel_ anything for a while. To get some sense of peace he hasn't been able to find in anything else.

A more effective way of keeping the memories and ghosts at bay.

_You've been knocking on that door,_ a voice that sounds all too familiar echoes in his head. _You've been knocking on it for years._

Dread winds its way around his ribs and everything is too much, hands trembling and deafening heartbeat, but Luke just keeps walking, picks up his pace until the door that leads out into one of the two gardens Chuck had showed him earlier comes into view.

The November chill sinks into his bones the moment he pushes open the door, chasing away the unnatural frost that had gripped him.

It's not enough though.

It _never_ feels like it's enough.

At least it doesn't look like anyone else is out here right now, at least Luke can—

"Careful there," a voice says, close enough that Luke wonders how he didn't notice, and cold fingers curl around his wrist. "Renée will be awfully pissed if you go walking through her marigolds."

Glancing down, Luke sees that he was in fact about to step on some flowers. Flowers that Renée must have spent a lot of time on with the amount of care they've so clearly been receiving. When the cold fingers finally release him Luke turns to look.

A dark haired man stands before him with a worn, paperback book in hand and not hesitating to meet his gaze. Withdrawal pale and fading bruises beneath green eyes. Luke himself probably looks pretty similar, considering how recently he had to detox again.

"Sorry. I was..." Luke trails off, not knowing where he was even going to go with that.

"You're new, right?" At Luke's nod, the man grins. "Welcome to Howell then. _How well_ are ya?"

Luke blinks, because for a moment he's taken back to that night in L.A. with the harsh downpour, when he had Nellie buy... _Gotta get well before I can get clean._

"Sorry; Renée and Will keep telling me I've got a talent for saying the wrong things to the right people." Luke's face must've been doing _something,_ because the man's grin softens into a smile as he holds out a hand. "I'm Garrett."

Garrett's hand is practically ice cold to the touch when he shakes it.

"Luke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll probably come back and edit this first chapter pretty heavily later on since i'm not completely 100% about it.


End file.
